What lakhs of citizens of India are undergoing with SIR is, to borrow from the political theorist Hannah Arendt, “fearsome, word-and-thought-defying.”
Suraj Gogoi
Sitting at the edge of the Arabian Sea, I, like many others who were gathered on the warm afternoon at the Kozhikode Literature Festival on January 24, 2026, had the good fortune of listening to the novelist Abdulrazak Gunrah answer questions ranging from his childhood to his recent novel Theft.
Among the many thoughtful things Abdulrazak shared, with wit and sharpness, his insistence on the fact that, at all but 18 years, “he left” his beloved Zanzibar, and not “fled”, stood out as an important reminder of how even in the worst of times, human agency remains central to migrants, among others.
“I did not flee. I left,” he pushed back against historian Dilip Menon, who was perhaps naive to ask what it was like to have fled Zanzibar. It left more than a smile on many of us in the audience when he added that he flew out of Zanzibar instead of taking a boat!
Abdulrazak went on to insist that he left/departed a Zanzibar that was witnessing random acts of violence, terror and also where schools were being shut down. He left, the Nobel laureate added, because, among other things, he wanted to study. Rest is history.
This response from Abdulrazak reminded me of the condition of migrants in India, particularly of Bengali workers who have been facing frequent discrimination and violence in various parts of India. Like any migrant, they too migrate, leave their homes for work, but are rendered homeless and strangers in their own country.
Some of them face acute hostility at home, and with it, profound everyday unfreedoms – both social and economic as Amartya Sen would have it. Reports of them facing attacks in various places in India were reported last year. Some of them were also packed in buses and pushed across the border to Bangladesh. These harrowing experiences are compounded by other random acts of physical and symbolic violence….
https://thewire.in/rights/the-banal-acts-of-a-nation-that-citizens-have-grown-to-fear
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‘You are making me an outsider’: Bishop’s College principal questions EC roll revision
Reverend Sunil Michael Caleb, 62, has been voting since December 1984
Among those whose voter status has been called into question by the Election Commission during the electoral roll revision is Reverend Sunil Michael Caleb, 62, the principal of Bishop’s College in Calcutta. He wrote for Metro about what he felt.
I came to Calcutta in 2000, and I have voted in every election since. But my name is under adjudication now in the electoral roll revision. I think I know why. Because my father is Maqbul.
It is Muslim-sounding, but a common Urdu name among Punjabi Christians born before 1947. My father was born in Karachi in undivided India in 1930. The Election Commission of India can’t accept this so-called “logical discrepancy”.
Because it is a Muslim-sounding name, their algorithm has flagged this.Then, suddenly, I was asked to attend a hearing on December 28. It was a Sunday, and I could not attend church service or mass because of the hearing. There, I showed the officials that I was already on the 2002 electoral rolls and showed my passport.
Even then, my name on the final SIR 2026 has “under adjudication” written on it. Inspite of going to the hearing, my name is under adjudication. Whether this is going to be resolved before the election is my question.
If they don’t allow me to vote, it would be a terrible thing.
This is our constitutional right — the right to vote, the right to choose our representatives in the Assembly or Parliament. I am not a Bengali, but I have lived here and I have a stake in Bengal so why should I not be allowed to vote in the Assembly elections. I have voted for every single election — whether it is the municipal corporation, Assembly or Lok Sabha.
If I am not allowed to vote now, it’s a shame. Taking away my right as a citizen upsets me. When I saw my name under adjudication, I felt so utterly frustrated. This whole SIR process seems to be to exclude people, rather than include. The election commission should be trying to include people, make as many people participate in the voting as possible, because everybody has a right to choose their representative.
You are making me an outsider, which is hurtful.
The first time I had voted was in December 1984, when I turned 21 (the minimum voting age then). I was in Delhi when Indira Gandhi died. Our house was next to the Gurdwara, and people took refuge in our home. My father was a bishop in Delhi. I have voted in different institutions in the city. Now, Bishop’s College itself has six polling booths. \
I just have to go downstairs to vote, but ironically, I might not be allowed to vote. It is a pity.
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After the truth-shower 